


Better Suited

by Chrissy24601



Series: Dominance [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil
Genre: Clothes Porn, Formalwear, M/M, Madeleine oggles Javert wearing a hot new suit, Now with additional smut, Oozing UST, Suit Porn, Suits, To which Javert is not particularly adverse, top!Javert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-18
Updated: 2013-05-20
Packaged: 2017-12-12 05:59:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/808103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chrissy24601/pseuds/Chrissy24601
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i> - If Javert looked impeccable on a daily basis, tonight he surpassed the definition of the word. When Madeleine had instructed the tailor to make a fashionable evening attire for the chief of police, he had never dared to dream it would suit the Inspector so incredibly well. - </i><br/>Fill for Les Mis Kink Meme prompt - now with link to <a href="http://dong-valdong.tumblr.com/post/56328956131/anon-by-request-your-art-is-so-beautiful-and-i">artwork</a>!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for the Les Mis Kink Meme prompt: "I'd just like Valjean--or Madeleine, however your delicious plotty mind manages to work something out--for whatever reason, getting Javert all fancied up in something that's not his uniform, and getting all hot under the collar about how fuckable Javert looks with the super quality, well tailored threads."
> 
> All too happy to oblige that!
> 
> EDIT: By accident, I discovered that 'Better Suited' inspired [ this wonderful artwork](http://dong-valdong.tumblr.com/post/56328956131/anon-by-request-your-art-is-so-beautiful-and-i) by [ Dong Valdong](http://dong-valdong.tumblr.com). And no, I don't mind stumbling across gorgeous artwork inspired by my fics! Hopefully the artist doesn't mind me adding this link, either ;P

 

“And that concludes my report, Monsieur,” Javert said, his deep voice crisp as ever.

Madeleine took that as his cue to nod. In the last half hour he had given his inspector his full and undivided attention. That was to say: the man, not the words. His mind hadn’t cared a hoot about police business and had wandered off in far better directions from the moment Javert had stepped into his office.

Perhaps it was a mechanism of his mind to deal with the threat that Javert could pose to him, but Madeleine had taken to imagine the tall inspector in various stages of undress while he made his reports. But what had started as a way to breathe easier around Javert had soon become a secret little vice that Madeleine found to be surprisingly delightful. He had mentally taken apart the blue uniform so often that it was sometimes hard to remember that the inspector was actually still wearing it.

To remedy that, his mind’s eye would supply a different outfit instead. Without fail, his imagination would then picture Javert in something much finer than the uniform. Like now. The velvet coats that were all the rage these days would look incredible on the inspector, he thought. Not to mention how a toning waistcoat would shape the man’s already narrow waist… Madeleine looked away for a moment to hide a blush creeping up behind his beard. 

“Will that be all, Monsieur?” Javert prompted, somewhat impatiently.

Pulled from his reverie, Madeleine sought quickly for a good reply. “Well, actually…” He went with the first thing that came to mind. “You know I am hosting a ball on May 15th?”

Javert took a deep breath that sounded like he was bracing himself from something he had hoped to avoid. “Yes, Monsieur le Maire. I’m aware of the event.”

“Well, you should be. I did send you an invitation, after all.” Madeleine smiled.

“You did. But I must respectfully decline, Monsieur.”

“Oh?” Madeleine frowned in earnest disagreement. “And why would that be?”

Despite his ever-straight shoulders, Javert looked decidedly ill at ease all of a sudden.

“For a number of reasons, Monsieur,” he said tenuously. “Mostly because a policeman’s duty is never done.”

“That is why you have a staff at your command. You can be spared one night in a year, surely.”

Javert’s mouth twitched nervously. “I beg your pardon, Monsieur le Maire, but I do not appreciate such events.”

“Neither do I, Inspector, but it is an official event, not a garden party. As mayor, it is my obligation to host this party, as it is your obligation as my chief of police to attend it.”

Madeleine saw Javert’s jaw clench tightly. “But Monsieur—“ he protested.

“You understand duty better than anyone, Inspector. No, I’m afraid I must insist.”

“But Monsieur!”

Madeleine eyed him intently, chin resting on his hands and smiling slightly. That always seemed to unnerve Javert for some reason, and it didn’t fail to do so now: the inspector’s bright eyes darted frantically for a few moments before locking onto the floorboards.

“You put me in an embarrassing position, Monsieur,” Javert said gravely.

Madeleine tilted his head a fraction. “That was never my intention, Inspector. If you fear you might feel awkward in such company, rest assured that you will not be alone in that.”

He could practically hear Javert grit his teeth.

“It is not just that, Monsieur le Maire. It is…” He struggled to swallow his pride. “…the dress code.”

Madeleine feigned ignorance of the inspector’s distress. “It’s merely formal attire,” he said lightly. “Nothing extravagant.” Although seeing Javert in an evening suit would be all different kinds of extravagant in so many ways. As far as Madeleine was concerned, that was the one anticipation that made this whole ball-thing worth while.  

To his amazement, Javert actually reddened. “I have never had need for formal attire, Monsieur,” he said tersely.

“There is a first time for everything,” Madeleine replied with a devious glint in his eyes.

Javert rolled his eyes. “You do not understand, Monsieur.” When he got no other reply but that same kind smile, he pinched the bridge of his nose in aggravation. Then, deliberately and with the resignation of a man facing inevitable humiliation, he straightened himself again.

“I _have_ no formal attire, Monsieur,” he said as if explaining to a child. “As it would not be appropriate to attend in my regular uniform, I would rather decline the invitation all together.”

Madeleine’s smile faltered. “That won’t do, Javert. That simply will not do.”

For an instant, Javert’s gaze snapped to him in a furious glare, but then the inspector resumed his inspection of the wall with renewed vigor. Madeleine ignored this while he and got out a sheet of paper and his pen.

“Any man holding a public office should have a suit for formal occasions,” he said as he began to write. “Army officers have dress uniforms, a mayor has a suit to go with the chain of office, et cetera. That should be no different for police officers. I’m surprised the Prefecture hasn’t thought of this.”

Surprised perhaps, but incredibly grateful for the opportunity it provided.

He continued to write in silence. Before his mind’s eye, he played with the dozens of daydreams that Javert’s weekly reports had inspired over the last year. Every now and again he would stop writing to close his eyes or give Javert - who still stood ramrod straight before his desk, fuming silently - an appraising look.

Eventually he put down his pen and read back what he had written. Then he signed the paper with a flourish and a stamp, and tossed some wood chafing on the ink to help it dry.

“May I be so bold as to inquire after the contents of the letter?” Javert said, his voice dangerously low.

“You may,” said Madeleine cheerfully as he folded the letter and put it in an envelop, which he sealed. “This is a letter to Monsieur Delpeche, the tailor down in Rue du Jardin.” He held it out to Javert.

The inspector glared at it as if it was a poisonous snake.

“It’s not charity,” said Madeleine when Javert continued to refuse. “I know you don’t appreciate that kind of gesture. However, these are official orders given in my function as mayor.”

With a wry look on his face, Javert accepted the envelop. “And your next order would be for me to deliver it, I presume?”

“Yes, Inspector. And to have the tailor inform you of its contents and—”

“And follow that contents to the letter,” Javert said, professional resignation barely suppressing his indignation. “I understand _perfectly_ , Monsieur le Maire. Will _that_ be all, then?”

Madeleine smirked gleefully. “Oh yes. That will be all.”

He watched Javert leave, noting the man’s long strides as the inspector legged out of the office and barely remembered not to slam the door behind him.

Javert might not like the orders, but Madeleine knew that, dutiful as Javert was, the man would obey every word. He chuckled to himself. As much as he had dreaded hosting that ball, now he couldn’t wait.

 

* * *

On the evening of the festivities, Madeleine found his concentration wandering. The annual ball at the mairie was the kind of event that was attended by ‘everyone who was someone’ in Montreuil society. A ridiculous notion, in his opinion, especially with his background. He didn’t feel comfortable around so many people who were everything he was not. Yet he could not keep the anticipatory smile off his face.  

He had made a point of going by the police station this afternoon to remind Javert of today’s date. Perhaps it had been overkill, but he didn’t put it beyond Javert to come up with a last-minute emergency that absolutely required his personal attention. Apparently it wouldn’t come to that, but Madeleine hadn’t been able to read the look in the inspector’s eyes when he assured Monsieur le Maire that, yes, he would be there tonight.

Be that as it may, Javert had yet to arrive.

Madeleine watched the guests dancing to the music of the string quartet that played at the far end of the mairie’s grand hall. Taking refuge from the incessant chatter everywhere, he had taken up position off to the side and toyed with the empty wine glass in his hand. A garçon passed to fill it again before he could decline.

“It would appear, Monsieur, that you have very good taste,” a deep voice drawled behind him. “Although I did take some liberty with regards to the colors you had selected.”

Madeleine started and turned, the convict in him poising to flee. But when he saw who had spoken, he froze on the spot, unable to do anything but stare.

If Javert looked impeccable on a daily basis, tonight he surpassed the definition of the word. When Madeleine had instructed M. Delpeche to make a fashionable evening attire for the chief of police, he had never dared to dream it would suit the Inspector so incredibly well.

His silk cravat, like the shirt underneath, was perfectly white. It was a far cry from the leather cravat that was part of the police uniform and the light color gave Javert’s stern face a softer edge that made him look more approachable. The high collar of his dark coat fit his neck perfectly. His long hair, tied back flawlessly at the nape of his neck with a silk ribbon, fell fluidly over the collar and down his back. And that coat… Madeleine had asked for a dark green coat, he remembered, but this ‘midnight blue’, as it was called, made the inspector’s broad chest and shoulder stand out even more. Whenever Javert moved, the light reflected off the velvet like stars in the night sky. It was stunning.

He gulped and let his eyes travel further down. The dark grey waistcoat was enforced with whalebone, as ordered, to accentuate the curves of Javert’s waist and hips. Not that the man really needed it, but dear God, this was perfection!  

His heart began to beat faster as his gaze followed the lines of the black trousers down the endless lengths of the inspector’s legs. One concession Javert hadn’t made was exchanging his customary boots for shoes, but the black, brightly polished leather hugging his calves befitted him far better than even the finest shoes would have.

Slowly his vision travelled up again. He saw now that Javert had his leaden headed cane hooked in the crook of his elbow. Against the dark velvet of his sleeves, it was a stylish accessory rather than a policeman’s weapon, like it belonged with the design of the clothes.  

Taking the sight of Javert in once more, the first word that came to Madeleine’s mind was ‘gorgeous’.

“It— is a tad darker than I had envisioned,” he muttered when he forced himself to look Javert in the eye before his appraising gaze would turn into outright ogling.

Javert scoffed and flicked some imaginary dust from the black velvet top hat he held in his hand. “I would have preferred black for the coat, but dark blue was the next best thing.” He looked away for a moment, the way he would when remembering his place. “Perhaps that was audacious of me. I apologize, Monsieur le Maire. I did not mean to question your decisions.”

Madeleine felt his face flush. “Oh, good Heavens, no! There is nothing to apologize for, Javert.” Not a damnable thing, in truth. “Even the best tailored clothes do not fit well if you aren’t comfortable wearing them. And _this_ —," he was getting very hot all of a sudden, “— this suits you exceptionally well.”

Javert nodded politely. “So I have been told several times since coming in. As I said, your taste is highly appreciated.”

“It is not my taste they applaud,” said Madeleine before he could help himself. “When people see a policeman, they see only his uniform. But tonight people get to see that you are just as formidable a man without the uniform.” He smiled warmly. “It is _you_ they applaud.”  Or at least he did.

Javert said nothing, but a faint blush appeared on his cheekbones as he averted his eyes. Montreuil’s chief of police could take even the harshest criticism head on, but any compliment that didn’t relate to his work always managed to embarrass the inspector ever so slightly. If Javert hadn’t been such a dangerous man, it would have been tempting to call that light blush and flitting eyes adorable.

But Javert _was_ a dangerous man, and that was what made it so enticing to see him in this well-tailored suit. It reminded Madeleine of something the poet Schiller wrote: that what is beautiful will only become sublime if it is also dangerous. If that was true - and Madeleine thought it was - then there could be no doubt that Javert was in every way sublime. Tonight even more so than ever.

“Monsieur le Maire?”

Madeleine’s head snapped up, realizing too late that he had been staring again. “I’m sorry, Inspector. You were saying?” he said as innocently as possible.

Javert gave him a strange look. “You were lost in thought, Monsieur,” he said, his bright eyes fixed intently on Madeleine. “I did not speak, but I do not expect you would have heard me if I had. Just as I’m sure you did not hear a word of the report I made yesterday.” His chin tilted down almost imperceptibly. “Or last week. Or the week before that.”

Madeleine couldn’t help but flush guiltily. His instinct was to turn and run, but Javert’s predatory gaze pinned him where he stood.

“I—I assure that you always have my full attention, Inspector,” he said, unable to keep a faint tremor from his voice.

Javert smirked knowingly, like a cat that has cornered a mouse. “So I have noticed, Monsieur.”

Despite his past - or maybe because of it – Javert’s almost threatening tone of voice stirred Madeleine’s blood. He was deeply grateful that they stood in a quiet corner and none of the guests seemed to have noticed the tense exchange between the mayor and the chief of police. It wouldn’t do for anyone to see him like this.

Except Javert did. They were barely a foot apart and it was impossible that someone as observant as Javert had not noticed what Madeleine was desperately hoping to hide. Indeed the inspector’s eyes roamed down the mayor’s body, catching sight of what stirred beneath the fine fabric of Madeleine’s trousers. Javert’s lips twitched in satisfaction.

“Perhaps, Monsieur le Maire, I should repeat yesterday’s report to you,” he said, bringing his eyes back to Madeleine’s. “In a more… _private_ setting.”

The inspector’s devious smile widened ever so little when Madeleine gasped audiably.

“If you feel this can’t wait,” Madeleine began unsteadily.

Javert’s eyes flit down for a moment. “With all due respect, Monsieur Le Maire, I do not think it can.”

Struck by terror and elation both at once, Madeleine nodded slowly. Danger be damned, but he wanted this. He wanted this man to himself tonight. Even if Javert really _was_ only going to repeat his report.

“In that case, Inspector, I’m sure you know the way to my office upstairs,” he managed with as much dignity as he could muster under the circumstances. “I will be there shortly.”

The light of the ballroom sprinkled sparkles on the dark blue velvet of Javert’s coat as the inspector made his usual curt bow in acknowledgement. In the one second that it lasted, Madeleine noted how all of the suit fit Javert’s body perfectly, highlighting his splendid physique in all the right ways. It was an absolute delight.

As Javert turned and left the ballroom, Madeleine drank in the sight. He finished his glass in one go and then followed his inspector. He wasn’t sure what to expect when he got to his office. The way Javert had downright played him, he was just as likely to get arrested as he was to get off.

Come what may, Madeleine decided he would not regret it.


	2. Chapter 2

As he slowly climbed the stairs to the next floor, Madeleine debated the sanity of all this. Oh, he had admired Javert’s sleek, muscular build from day one, but he had never intended the man to actually become aware of that, let alone return the interest. If that was what this was…

On the landing Madeleine hesitated. The desire coursing through his body was no less for the threat this pseudo-meeting posed, but he was alert. He would not be surprised if, the moment he stepped into the office, Javert cuffed him for nothing but purely professional reasons. He’d be terrified and disappointed if that happened, yes, but not surprised.

Or could it be that Javert’s position was too much like his own: a single man living alone, starved for a little intimacy after years of celibacy? In Toulon, Valjean had succumbed to such desires from time to time, as would all prisoners. Now Montreuil wasn’t Toulon, of course, but while the ladies at the docks would gladly take care of such problems, he suspected that, just like him, Javert valued his health more than his comfort.

Madeleine followed the long hallway to his office. He never locked it and now the door was slightly ajar, telling him Javert had already seen himself in. His heart beat fast in both hopeful and fearful anticipation as his hand pushed against the door.

The Spartan office bathed in the soft, yellowish light of the small chandelier that hung from the ceiling. Off to his right, Javert was just extinguishing the wick at the end of the pole that served to reach the candles high up.

“I see you found the lighting pole,” he said lamely, announcing his presence without really needing to. In the flickering of the newly lit flames, Madeleine saw the smart little smirk that still graced his inspector’s lips as the man set the thing in its corner.

“With your permission, Monsieur, I like to see what I say,” Javert retorted.

And Madeleine liked to see what he saw plainly. Especially this fine a sight.

The hat and policeman’s cane had been placed with care on the wooden chair by the door. Without them, Javert had his hands free to idly tug at the cuffs of his sleeves, pulling them over his wrists after they had rode up his forearms while he was lighting the chandelier. The gesture was simple enough, but Madeleine took it in faster than he had finished his wine.

As Javert stepped up to the desk, the candles overhead literally put the inspector in a whole different light than before. Unlike the bright light in the ballroom, the chandelier cast shadows that accentuated the man’s broad chest and narrow waist. The dark blue velvet of his coat seemed nearly as black as the trousers, the darkness of which now hid the gentle folds in the smooth fabric. If his body was responding in kind to Madeleine’s, those shadows made it impossible to tell. Javert stood perfectly still, like a predator laying in wait. Only his bright eyes betrayed that he was more than ready to pounce his prey.

It was a small mercy that he didn’t seem to have his handcuffs on him.

Madeleine realized he was openly ogling now, but Javert was actually indulging him, steadily meeting his indecent gaze with unwavering patience. Madeleine found himself glancing fleetingly at his desk. He had cleared it this afternoon and the whole of its surface was freely available if needed. His tongue flitted across his lips. If only he should be so lucky.

“The report, Monsieur?” Javert said eventually, quirking a brow.

Madeleine swallowed hard. “Yes of course,” he said, voice hoarse. He quickly closed the door and sat down behind his desk to remove his straining tension from sight. “Please proceed, Inspector.”

Javert squared his shoulders, standing to perfect attention as he began his report with practiced fluency.

More so than any time before, Madeleine dreamed. He did register a few of the things Javert mentioned as something he had heard before, but it failed to capture his interest as much now as it had the first time. The enthralling images that his mind produced with the pristinely dressed inspector before him simply drowned out everything else. Involuntarily, he squirmed in his seat, wishing there was a way to slip one hand under the desk without Javert noticing.

But this was Javert. That man noticed _everything_.

“Please pay attention, Monsieur,” the inspector said. “That is the whole point of this exercise, after all.” His tone was stoic as usual, but the tiny smile curving his lips was almost coy.

Madeleine felt his face heat up, firmly folding his hands on the desk in front of him, fingers tightly interlaced to resist temptation. “So it is,” he said. “Please continue. You were just mentioning—” He had heard that, he knew he had. It was just that all the blood rushing south made it harder to think straight.

Javert scoffed, but the smirk that accompanied it took the edge off his exasperation. He began to pace up and down in front of the desk with long, languid strides.  

“As I was saying, this matter at the butcher’s shop constitutes trespassing and is therefore unlawful. It may not be immediately recognizable as an infringement, but when considered in light of the most recently added articles of the _Code Pénal_ , one can easily see how it should be viewed as such.”

Javert droned on, citing articles of law, recent court decisions and God knew what else. None of it was even remotely relevant to a customer trying to buy a piece of pork after shop hours anymore, but he nevertheless took his time to elaborate on the finest possible details. And all the while, he was taking long strides in front of the desk, occasionally glancing at the mayor to see if he had Madeleine’s attention.

He had. In fact, Madeleine had stopped listening altogether after the word ‘infringement’, needing the remainder of his mental faculties to coordinate between staring at Javert’s long legs and keeping his own jaw from dropping to his knees.

The longer the inspector’s exhibition lasted, the more effort it took Madeleine to keep himself together. By now, the lower part of his body screamed to be touched. He held his ground as best he could, but when Javert plunged deeper into what was rapidly becoming a full-length lecture on the practical application of the Criminal Code _,_ Madeleine found his hand plunging down just as rapidly.

The moment he did, though, Javert cut off in mid-sentence and came to an abrupt stop before the desk. 

“Monsieur le Maire, I cannot help but notice your continuous lapse of concentration. I insist this is remedied before I continue my report.”

“Eh?” Madeleine muttered unintelligibly, both hands back on the desk as his wide eyes met Javert’s stern glare. He flushed with what had to be a violent shade of red. “Euh, I mean, that shouldn’t take long now...”

The inspector raised a brow in mock-surprise. “Really? I thought you to be a man of stamina, Monsieur. You strength and fortitude is legendary in this town.” He smirked. “And beyond, I imagine.”

Seeing the confident look on Javert’s face, Madeleine paled in so far as his flustered cheeks allowed. Oh God, he knew. Javert really _knew!_

Or did he? Wouldn’t the inspector have denounced him and put him in cuffs already if he did? Javert wasn’t one to hesitate when he was certain and he always got what he wanted. If the hungry, triumphant glint in those steel eyes was to be believed, he knew he had his man. Madeleine suppressed a moan at that particular thought. Even knowing his identity was on the verge of being discovered, he wanted nothing more than those capable hands on his body, preferably to do something more than arrest him. It was insane to think this way, but he did…

…because Javert was a policeman. To Monsieur Madeleine Javert was a subordinate, but to Valjean, the man was forever one of his jailors. Someone to obey. Someone he _wanted_ to obey. After nineteen years, that was almost second nature. And no doubt Javert knew _that_ , too.

Swallowing hard, he turned back to Javert. “What do you advise, Inspector?” he inquired, trying to make it sound as normal as possible.

Javert took a deep, deliberate breath. The dark velvet of his coat stretched a fraction against his expanding chest as he pretended to consider something that was already decided.

“The obvious course of action is perfectly clear, Monsieur,” he said curtly. “It would, however, be a pity to stain your trousers so. The fabric is quite delicate.”

Stunned by so much audacity, Madeleine was lost for words for a few seconds. “I—I think it may already be too late for that,” he finally stammered.

“Then you are fit to hear the rest of my report, Monsieur?” Javert inquired with a sly smile.

Madeleine’s breath hitched in his throat at the thought of Javert resuming his pacing. “I do not think so, Inspector. Any suggestion you might care to make to solve my predicament is—“ he gulped “—more than welcome.”

The look on Javert’s face was possibly one of devious amusement. If it wasn’t, Madeleine didn’t want to know.

“I do have a suggestion, Monsieur,” the inspector’s deep voice rumbled as he put his hands on the desk and leaned closer. “However, it would require your full cooperation.” He pursed his lips. “Or dare I say: obedience.”

The shudder that tore through Madeleine did not go unnoticed to either of them. He closed his eyes in an odd mix of anticipation and resignation.

“I will comply with whatever you deem necessary, Inspector,” he whispered.

“Good,” he heard Javert say, feeling the man’s warm breath against his skin. “Then I suggest you start by removing your clothes before you soil them further.”

Madeleine froze, eyes flying open again. “W-what? You mean… disrobe?”

“I assure you there is nothing to be embarrassed about,” said Javert calmly. “During my time as prison guard I have seen all there is to see of the male anatomy.” He straightened himself to his full height in a not-too-subtle show of dominance. “You did say you would comply, _Monsieur_.”

The sarcastic emphasis on that last word made Madeleine weak at the knees. Screw his better judgment: “And I will, Inspector.”

He slowly got up from his chair and began to shrug out of his coat. Draping it over his chair, he then made short work of the buttons of his beige waistcoat and got out of that, too. Postponing the inevitable a little longer, his hands travelled down to undo the fastening of his trousers next.

“Drawers, too, obviously,” the inspector instructed.

Madeleine – or was it Valjean? – felt his cock jolt at the order. He carefully released it from its confines before obediently pushing his drawers down with his trousers and slipping out of his shoes and socks as he removed them. All the while, he was all too aware of Javert’s eyes ravishing him.

He couldn’t keep his hands from shaking when they began to untie his cravat, though. When it came loose, the cloth fell abandoned on the floor. His fingers sagged before he mustered the courage to, very slowly, undo the top button of his shirt.

“That is enough,” said Javert suddenly, brow furrowing in an undecided expression. “Removing your shirt will not advance the solution to your problem, Monsieur. I insist you keep it on.”

The weight of the world fell off Madeleine’s shoulders. He hadn’t dare to hope for such mercy – for that was most certainly what it was – but when he looked at Javert again, he did see the reason why: since he had begun to strip, the shadows on the inspector’s trousers had changed significantly.

“Oh my,” he muttered under his breath.

Javert must have spotted Madeleine’s recognition, but wasn’t in the least disturbed by it.

“From what I gathered tonight, you seem to take explicit pleasure in my wearing this suit, Monsieur,” he said. He rounded the desk as he spoke, halting only inches behind Madeleine’s shoulder. “Am I right?” He tilted his head enough to get a good view of Madeleine’s quivering member. “Of course I am,” he concluded with extreme satisfaction.

It is common knowledge that power erotizes, but neither Madeleine nor Valjean had ever felt so turned on by this much blatant arrogance. He drew a raspy breath as Javert stood behind him, close enough to rustle the fabric of his shirt.

“Turn around,” Javert ordered.

Before his mind had grasped the words, his body had obeyed out of sheer habit. Now he stood with his back to the desk, pinned between it and his exquisitely dressed inspector.

If the man touched him now, that would be enough.

But Javert didn’t. Instead of coming closer, he took a step back, smirking fiendishly as he slowly let the velvet coat slide off his shoulders. “It is a new suit. It shouldn’t be allowed to crease,” he explained as he carefully hung it over the back of Madeleine’s chair, covering the discarded clothes already there.

Never before, Madeleine realized with a squirm of delight, had he ever seen Javert in his shirt sleeves. Of course he hadn’t. It wasn’t a decent thing to do in company and Javert was nothing if not correct. Yet where he had no problem in postrating himself before Javert in nothing but a shirt, seeing the impeccable inspector baring himself this way gave a whole new meaning to ‘arousing’. His hand drifted to his aching cock in reflex.

He hissed when Javert grabbed him by the wrist to keep him from touching himself.

“Is this so much to your satisfaction, _Monsieur_?” the inspector coaxed.

Madeleine nodded mutely. He was sure his arousal was dripping already.

“Good,” Javert growled. All pretences gone in a flash, he grabbed Madeleine by the neck and drew him into a rough, bruising kiss.

After the initial surprise, Madeleine readily leaned into the assault. His mind was too much on fire with unadulterated lust to formulate what it was he wanted, but his instincts didn’t need instructions. He just needed the pure physicality of being touched, of being subdued. There was nothing tender or loving about the lips that pressed against his or the hand that had grabbed a fistful of his shirt. That was fine. That was the way it was supposed to be. Especially with this ruthless, dangerous man.

Javert shoved him hard against the desk. “Lay down,” he ordered, bright eyes ablaze as he fumbled with the buttons of his trousers.

Hazy with desire, Madeleine turned towards the desk, but a big hand grabbed him by the shoulder before he could.

“No, on your back,” Javert growled. “I want to see who I fuck.”

Madeleine obediently lowered himself back on the desk, his legs widening off their own accord. Looking down beyond his engorged erection, he saw that while Javert had undone his trousers, the dark cloth still rested on his hips, albeit a bit lower than it had been. That alone was promise enough. He lay back, pressing himself against the cold wood beneath him, eager for what would come.

“Do you keep some kind of oil in your office?” Javert’s voice asked huskily.

Madeleine shook his head, the ‘no’ he uttered sounding more like a moan than a word as a strong hand spread him wider.

“No matter,” Javert said as he positioned himself. “I’m sure you have done this without such aid before.”

He had, but that had been a long time ago and—

Madeleine stifled a cry as Javert entered him with a slow but deliberate thrust. A sharp pain shot through him, threatening to overwhelm him. He had born pain before, though, and knew how to deal with it. He clenched his fingers around the edge of the desk for support, willing himself to relax as he rocked into the forceful thrusts with which Javert slid deeper into him. He was glutton for punishment, that he knew, but dear God, this would have been that much easier if the tall inspector wasn’t so incredibly _proportionate_.

Easier perhaps, yes. But not nearly as good.

As they settled wordlessly into a mutual rhythm, Madeleine folded his legs around Javert’s hips, pulling the man as close as possible with every thrust that rocked him. His eagerness was rewarded with one hand around his throbbing cock, while the long fingers of another dug into the creases of the rapidly soaking shirt, riding it up over his belly to the underside of his ribcage.

“Would you have taken it off if I insisted?” Javert asked between pants. His hand rubbed over Madeleine’s chest, over the ridges that were Valjean’s scars. There was no way he could not have felt them through the fabric, even if he might not recognize them for what they were. “Or would you have found an excuse not to?”

Whatever reply Madeleine might have given, it was lost in an incoherent whimper when the inspector roughly strummed a thumb along his length.

“I—I…”

“Not a word!” Javert bit, increasing the speed and intensity of his movements. “To have you here like this is too good. Don’t spoil it, _Monsieur… le Maire!_ ”

At that, Madeleine lost himself with a cry. He bucked violently, back arching in the heat of the moment. He felt himself clench around Javert’s shaft, causing the usually so composed inspector to groan strenuously before coming with a few sharp thrusts.

The stars dancing before his eyes gradually faded. Overcome, Madeleine craned his head back in satisfied exhaustion, gasping for breath while his inspector leaned over him, laboring to find his own.

For a long moment, they stayed this way. Then, without warning, Javert pushed himself up and disengaged himself from Madeleine’s body. That stung, but Madeleine was too sated to wince.

Through heavy-lidded eyes, he saw Javert pull a handkerchief from his trouser pocket and clean himself before neatly buttoning up and putting on his coat. Fully dressed again, the inspector looked completely innocent of their act, if not for the rosy color on his cheeks and a single strand of his long hair that had escaped the silk ribbon.

Even now, with the cold reality descending on him too fast, Madeleine could not help but admire the view.

To his surprise, Javert bent down to retrieve the abandoned trousers and drawers from the floor. Without a word, he searched the pockets and produced Madeleine’s own handkerchief from its folds. Still silent, he handed it to Madeleine.

“Thank you,” Madeleine croaked through his dry throat. Taking care to wipe up all he had spilled on himself, he cleaned his belly with the handkerchief before sitting up. He felt a bit lightheaded when he did.

“You are expected back at the ball, Monsieur,” Javert said, frowning solemnly. “However, if you are not fit to attend I will make an excuse for your absence.”

“No need,” said Madeleine as he pulled on his drawers. “I’m not as young as I used to be, but that´s all.” Or he would that it was. His hands faltered. “I must apologize, Inspector,” he said, taking care to avert his eyes. “I fear that I have shown entirely too much of myself tonight.”

Javert’s face was unreadable. “Not more than I already knew there to be, Monsieur le Maire,” he replied, his deep baritone almost reassuring. “I will take my leave now. No doubt we will see each other tomorrow.” Without awaiting a reply, he bowed briefly, turned on his heels and exited, taking his hat and cane with him as he went.

Madeleine continued to watch Javert go long after the door had closed. Those last words kept ringing in his ears, relentlessly repeating themselves. If it meant what he feared it did, he should leave immediately, while he still had the chance.

If it meant what he _hoped_ it did, the only reason Javert would cuff him some time in future was to tie him to the bedposts.

He sighed. Valjean’s common sense told him to pack his things and go. The part of him that was Madeleine told him to give the inspector the benefit of the doubt. That was, after all, what Javert had granted him tonight, too.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we are! I realise that doing this the way they are (lube-less) is actually *not* a good idea, but hey, let's call that creative license, shall we?  
> It's been ages since I wrote smut, so any constructive critisism is welcome.


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